


Matildabeast

by M J Holyoke (wholeyolk)



Category: Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types, La Belle et la Bête | Beauty and the Beast (Fairy Tale)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fairy Tale Curses, Gen, Genderswap, Once Upon a Fic Exchange 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:14:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24027988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wholeyolk/pseuds/M%20J%20Holyoke
Summary: Among the undergraduates, Professor Whitley was popularly known as “The Matildabeast,” and it was not meant as a compliment. Fiona was well-aware of moniker but did not care.“It’s just who I am,” she’d say with pride.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9
Collections: Once Upon a Fic 2020





	Matildabeast

**Author's Note:**

  * For [calenlily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/calenlily/gifts).



“Mistress, I have the outcome of the Fellowship selection process. The deliberations have been recorded in the minutes, which I’ve also attached.”

“Thank you, Lynn,” said Fiona absently. Her mind was elsewhere; she didn’t even bother to look up from her desk. “Will that be all?”

“Yes, Mistress,” said her clerk deferentially.

“Excellent. Now, I must get back to this before I lose my train of thought to your untimely interruption entirely. If you’ll excuse me . . .”

“Yes, Mistress.” The clerk gave a curtsey and exited, shutting the door to the room at the top of the tower quietly behind her.

Professor Fiona Whitley was the Mistress of Matilda College, and she was brilliant. A genius without compare. Everyone said so. At the age of twenty-five, she’d been hailed the most gifted mathematical philosopher of her generation. At the age of thirty-five, she’d been unanimously elected to lead to the College, the youngest woman in its 1679-year history.

And thanks to Fiona, Matilda College was prospering as never before in its 1679-year history. They had more many undergraduate applications than they had places each year, and the overall standards were superb. Unprecedented success in wooing new benefactors meant that College finances were secure for the foreseeable future. And, flush with funds, they were recruiting the best and the brightest from around the world to the College Fellowship. Both Matilda College’s teaching and research provisions were rated world-class on the global league tables.

This success had not come without great personal cost, however. In her relentless pursuit of her academic career, Fiona had had to neglect friends and family. She’d made no new true friends; she’d had no children of her own. Bonds forged in childhood had been left to decay. At best, it could be said that Fiona’s single-minded, no-nonsense approach had earned her respect—but it had not earned her any _love_.

Among the undergraduates, Professor Whitley was popularly known as “The Matildabeast,” and it was not meant as a compliment. Fiona was well-aware of moniker but did not care.

“It’s just who I am,” she’d say with pride.

* * *

Most of Matilda College’s undergraduates came from wealthy, respectable families who could easily afford the cost of fees and maintenance for their daughters. Nevertheless, because the College was a benevolent institution, several places were reserved each year for scholarship students—worthy unfortunates for whom the imprimatur of a Matilda education might be expected to benefit.

“They must be the _right_ sort of young women,” Fiona reminded the College Fellows, “and they must have _potential_. They must have bright minds, and they must be polite. They bear the good name of Matilda College when we finish with them and send them forth into the world. We must not take anyone who would bring us into disrepute.”

The charity-case interviews were held in person at the College. This was traditional. Fiona herself conducted the ones relevant to her field of scholarly expertise.

Unfortunately, this particular year was proving particularly disappointing. Although she had personally interviewed nearly a half-dozen students so far in her tower room, she deemed not a single one fit to be offered a scholarship at Matilda College. And the sixth and final interviewee of the day was, from the moment she’d entered, clearly going to be the absolute worst of the lot.

“You’re old,” said Fiona coldly.

The old woman who’d presented herself to the interview frowned. “I did not know those who wished to learn had to be young.”

“They do not. But most of our students are young, and we would not want you to feel uncomfortable with their society,” said Fiona. “Moreover, we are an Ancient College with inconveniently ancient buildings and many crooked, narrow, steep staircases. And you’ll pardon me for saying that you appear to possess both a hunched back and a pronounced limp.”

“I made it up here all right,” replied the old woman. Indeed, the stairs to Fiona’s tower room were the most crooked, narrow, and steep of all.

“Yes, this is true.” Fiona tried not to roll her eyes and sigh as she pulled out the old woman’s application papers. Perhaps they would contain some feature which would redeem this old woman. But alas. Fiona did a lot more than sigh when she saw what those papers contained. She may well have gasped aloud in horror. The handwriting on the application was practically illegible, and what little she could decipher was, to put it charitably, almost illiterate. Never in her life had she seen a scholarship application of such little merit!

“I’m to be admitted then?” The old woman smiled at Fiona. Her teeth were yellow and rotting.

Ugh, really?! It was an open and shut case. “Hm. No,” said Fiona, voice so cold that ice would shiver to hear it.

“But—”

“I said no.” Fiona rose from her desk and slammed her palms down onto the table. Her temper was also rising. She pointed to the door. “You may see yourself out.”

“Matilda College is an institution dedicated to the pursuit of knowledge. Surely it is the least of us—someone like me—who would be most improved by the teaching and learning offered? I have applied for a scholarship; I am poor and feeble. I am a charity case. You have worn your success poorly, and it has made you ugly. Do not be so proud. Listen to the love and kindness and compassion in your heart, Mistress Whitley, and do not refuse me again. Otherwise, the consequences for you and yours will be grave. This is your final warning.”

Fiona did not heed the warning and refused the old woman a third time. And thus Matilda College and all of its students and scholars were cursed. Until such day as the curse was lifted, there would be no life, no light, and no learning. The College, which saw itself as the best of what the world had to offer, had been hidden by an enchantment and taken out of the world altogether.

As for the old woman? She was a sorceress in disguise, come to test the Fiona’s virtue . . . and Fiona had failed. “Love and be loved, Professor Whitley,” she said. “Only this will break the curse.”

As for Professor Fiona Whitley, the Mistress of Matilda College herself? “The Matildabeast” had become a terrifying beast in truth.

 _And who could possibly love and be loved such a monster?_ wondered the students and scholars. _She would have to be kindhearted and bright,_ they decided. _Beautiful. Ah, but surely such a treasure of a young woman did not exist anywhere . . ._

They did not anticipate the merchant’s beautiful, bookish daughter.


End file.
